The Winner is...

Thanks everyone for stopping by and telling me some of your favorite foods to take to parties. I might have to get some of your recipes, they all sounded delicious.

I had ten entries and I put them into the Random Generator and came up with the number 6! Congratulations Cathy you are the winner, and if my hunch is right you live close by. I'll e-mail you tonight!

I can't wait to catch up with everyone after the holiday weekend. We've had a wonderful one filled with lots of celebrating. I'll tell you more about it tomorrow and I"ll post some pictures.

Thanks again to all who entered.

Peach Cobbler Recipe And A Give-Away!

Over at We Are That Family it's a special edition of Works For Me Wednesday. We are supposed to share one of our favorite recipes. I'm going to share Jan Karon's Peach Cobbler recipe. First let me say I love Jan Karon. Her Mitford Series was wonderful. Father Tim and his sayings have become a part of my vocabulary. And so when she came out with the Mitford Cookbook, I just had to buy it because it had all the mouthwatering recipes that she wrote about in her books. Which brings me to my give-away. I will give someone a copy of Jan Karon's Hardcover Mitford Cookbook!!

First the peach cobbler. I took this to a neighborhood gathering and everyone loved it. I felt lots of love that night. Later several people called and had to have the recipe and our annual neighborhood gathering was changed from the normal ice cream social to you guessed it a peach cobbler social just so they could have it again. Yes, it is that good. But let me warn you, if you use canned peaches I will hunt you down and well, no I won't do that. Please though, don't use canned peaches, it's summer splurge a little:)

1 Double pie crust or Pillsbury pie crust if you are in a hurry. (Jan's pie crust recipe is to die for but you'll have to get the book for that recipe...it's only fair!)

10 cups peeled and sliced fresh peaches
2 1/2 cups granulated sugar, more for sprinkling on top
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
3 tablespoons all purpose flour
3/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter, melted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

And if you have ancestors that settled Kentucky than you add a splash or two of bourbon. That's my addition by the way.

In a large bowl combine peaches, 1/2 cup sugar, and lemon juice. Let the fruit sit for 20 minutes (this is when I splashed the bourbon) In a small bowl, combine the flour, the remaining 2 cups of the sugar, the cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, butter, and vanilla. Add to the peaches and mix well.

Preheat oven to 400 F. Spray a 12X8 inch baking dish with nonstick cooking spray. Roll half of the pastry into another 1/8 inch thick large rectangle. Spoon half the fruit mixture into the prepared dish. Cut the pastry into 2 inch squares and place on top of peaches. Bake the first layer for 10 minutes, then turn on the broiler and broil for 5 more minutes or until golden brown. Remove from the oven, lower the temp back down to 400F and spoon the remaining fruit on top. Roll the remaining pastry into another 1/8 inch rectangle and cut into 1 inch strips. Arrange the strips in a lattice design over the peaches (I was lazy and just did squares again). Sprinkle with sugar and bake another 30 to 35 minutes, or until golden brown.

I promise people will love you if you make them this. People probably already love you, but they'll love you more after taking a bite of this. Everything I have made out of here has been a hit. Not all recipe books do that for me.

For the give-away tell me what your favorite thing to bring to a gathering is in the comment section. If you blog about this give-away on your blog come back and tell me for another entry. I will post the winner to this give-away on Sunday!

Happy Eating.

Let's Talk About It

Yesterday at the athletic club, as I was sitting outside the pool area waiting for Soph to finish up with her swim lesson, an elderly man came in and sat at the table beside us with a cup of coffee. Pretty soon he was joined by about 6 elderly ladies, some in swimsuit cover-ups. Apparently, several of them were waiting for a lane to open up in the pool so they could go swim. I must say I was glad they came in because they were very entertaining.

In twenty minutes they talked about Ethel, who apparently slipped on the locker room floor. She was fine, assured the grey haired lady in the know, but very embarrassed. That led to the discussion of the slippery floors in the club. Many chimed in with their opinion of where the floor was the worst.

The ringleader, I call her that because she seemed to start and finish each topic of conversation, then asked about one of the woman's husband. The lady told the group her husband was still grumpy, nothing has changed. Chuckles and nodding.

Slowly, the topic changed to Michael Jackson. The ringleader would throw out questions like, "Do you think they'll find drugs in his system?" to "Have you seen his children? They are really cute without their masks." Usually, a few ladies would chime in their comments. All would nod and then they'd move on.

It was fascinating really, the dialogue between this group of women and one man. The elderly gentlemen didn't say much. Not sure if it was because he'd turned down his hearing aide or maybe it was because he didn't have anything to add. Whatever the reason, they all sat there for 20 minutes talked and then all got up to leave. It seemed like a ritual they went through on a daily basis.

This got me to thinking about the dialogue in our stories. First, the dialogue helps us to get to know the characters. I didn't know any of these women, but after 20 minutes I had learned their opinions on several topics. Second, I thought about the topics these 70 plus individuals discussed. Some of the topics I might discuss with my friends, but the answers came with a point of view of someone who has seen much more than I have seen in my lifetime.

I guess it just really made me more aware of how individuals in my book talk. How important it is to find the voice of each character and make sure it rings true to their background, age, and experience. What are some things you do to make sure your character has an authentic voice?

Summer Photo Contest

U-Printing is sponsoring a summer photo contest. So of course I had to get out the camera and submit a photo. I'm not the photographer in the family, but I can capture some fun moments.

Forget Sugar and Spice, frogs are for girls!

I know it's summer when my girls start hunting for frogs and toads. At any given time they may have 8 or 9 floating around in their little pool that they have captured and are watching. They save them from the dogs in the backyard and run through the house yelling "Toad, I've got one!" as they make their way to the front door. This year Little One joins in the fun without any hesitation. She's known to have one in each hand as she walks around the yard. This one she named Croaky. They spent the better half of the afternoon together.

I've titled it "Forget Sugar and Spice, frogs are for girls!". What would you name this picture?

Head over to U-Printing for your printing needs. UPrinting.com is a leading online provider for business cards and enlarging photos.

Long Weekend

I'm going to leave my computer behind for a few days. Instead I'm going to concentrate on finally having some relaxation time with WB and the girls. Plus, we are celebrating the new ordination of one of our dear friends with some of our old friends from college. And I get to see one of my buddies from high school. I'm expecting to have a glorious weekend.

If you are needing some interesting reading check out my friend's post over at Smockity Frocks. She has links to a totally, unbelievable and very disturbing story about a young woman and her scams. Very, very sad really.

I'll be back Monday!

They Put The Security Tags In The Darnest Places...

Today I went shopping while Em was at a pottery camp. Soph, Little One and I headed over to the very swank and upscale boutique of TJ Maxx. Anyplace where you can pile clothing into a plastic, squeaky cart seems to be my kind of place these days. Now, before anyone accuses me of being sarcastic, which I never am by the way, let me say I'm serious. A cart is a very nice thing to have when you are tired of chasing a two year old around the store and telling her to "look please, not touch" no less than twelve dozen times. Put child in cart with a book or whatever she just pulled off the shelf along with the heavy tote bag you carry as a purse. The purse is hot pink with green dots by the way. Just another accessory that screams, "I'm a Mom with a child in diapers!".

So we wheeled the squeaking cart across the store to the dresses, but before we could shop Soph decided we needed a bathroom break. Then Little One decided to try, with no success. Don't ask her though because she will always respond to the question "Did you go?" with "Just a little bit". I never argue even though it is obvious she didn't go even just a little bit, it's the trying that counts right?

Back over to the dresses. I pick one up, like the colors, like the price even better and turn to put it in the cart. Soph looks at the dress and then at me and asks, "What's that shirt doing in the dress section?" Quickly I hold very cute dress up in front of me and realize it hits 4 inches above my knee. I glance up at the sign over the rack and it says JUNIORS. Ahhh, that explains it. I take this time to explain to Soph that it is really not very modest to wear such a short skirt, no matter what the age. I'm hoping she'll skip those teen years all together actually.

Creaking over to the Misses dress section I'm relieved to find dresses of a more appropriate length. Soph picks out a very pretty one and guess what, the skirt of the dress goes to my ankles. See she took my little chat about modesty to heart, bless that child. So we throw a few more things into the cart and race across the store to the dressing room. The cart is now full of clothes to try on, but is minus a toddler. She is skipping across the store yelling "Pretty, pretty" as she points to everything she passes.

I am a little upset that the largest dressing room is occupied. I hear the voices of two young women commenting on colors and hemlines behind the dressing room doors. I listen to them giggling as they twirl about in that spacious room as I cram myself, Soph, and Little One into a stall about 2 feet wide. But it's okay because I can try on clothes in record time. I've learned this from having three children and a husband who highly dislikes shopping. I try on Soph's dress and because of the lack of zippers or buttons it's a little bit of a struggle getting it on, but once it's on it fits very nice. The cut is sexy enough for my husband and modest enough for my children. Folks, I don't know about the rest of you women, but for me that right there is a winner. Almost enough that I wouldn't care what it costs, almost. The problem comes when I try to take off the dress. It has these twisted crisscross straps in the back and right smack in the center of the straps they have the security tag. You know, the big ugly plastic thing that is filled with ink. The one you shouldn't let your very curious 6 year old play Macgyver with.

So there I am in the snug little stall pulling and tugging, trying to get the dress off. Every time I wiggled the tag dug itself into my back. When I shimmied it pulled tight onto the straps so I couldn't slip my arms out. I thought of asking the dour faced woman at the entrance to the dressing room to take it off, but the fact that she counted my items twice before going in and then eyed my purse-bag suspiciously I was hesitant. She'd probably think it was some sort of evil plan to thwart their security system.

Taking a deep breath I try again and whack my elbow on the wall behind me. Ouch. I dare to glance over at Soph. One look and we both burst into laughter. Little One, not wanting to feel left out, stops trying to peek under the next stall and begins to laugh. Her laugh is the throw your head back, scrunch up your eyes and nose, deep belly laugh. This of course makes Soph and I laugh even harder. Somewhere in this hilarity I am actually able to slip the dress down and off my body. Thank you, I'm free.

But all this makes me wonder who is the person that puts these security tags into place. They always end up in the very worst places. I won't tell you what happened when I tried on a swimsuit with one of those things attached. Well, it just wasn't pretty. And sometime it's really hard to imagine the outfit without the tag when its sitting dead center on your chest.

If you are a security tag pinner I'm just asking if you'll please think of us before you shoot that tag onto a garment. Please.

Oh, and by the way, I splurged and bought myself a purse. A real, honest to goodness purse. There is nothing bag or tote about it. No pink, no dots, no pull out diaper changer. I can't wait until the day I get to use it.

And if you have any shopping horror stories, I'd love to hear all about it!

Cadillac Ranch

Copyright Scott Flathouse

There is a man here in Amarillo, who is, well eccentric. He does some neat and crazy things around town like street signs with quirky sayings that pop up in people's yards. Or a giant statue of a leg made to look like an artifact out in the middle of nowhere. WB took a picture of this and they published it in Texas Highways. His place of residence is called Toad Hall.

Anyway, one day he decided to collect some old Cadillacs and stick them in the ground. Yes, stick them in the ground so that they are pointing upwards towards the vast Texas sky. It's out in a field that sometimes has cows grazing about. There is a cattle guard and visitors are welcome to walk out and look and they can even spray paint the cars. I can only imagine the thousands of layers of spray paint each car is covered in.

copyright Scott Flathouse

I take this tourist attraction for granted sometimes because we pass in every day when we go back and forth into town. But there are always cars stopped and visitors walking the trail to explore the cars. In fact, it is a game with my daughters to try to catch the place with no visitors. I think we have counted a handful of times that there have been no people there. It doesn't matter if the wind is blowing dirt or the temperature is 110, people have to stop and look.

Copyright Scott Flathouse

WB went out to take some pictures the other night when he thought the sky and light were just right. Remember what I said about photographers and their light? Well, it's true.